


replay on my mind

by justaboat



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:11:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justaboat/pseuds/justaboat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au. louis and niall work at an overnight diner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	replay on my mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [temerity (forsanethaec)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forsanethaec/gifts).



> ahhhhhhhhh at long last, here is the fic for my the love of my life, [annie](http://1dgaf.tumblr.com/). she wrote me beach babes so i wrote her this in return. i love you and i hope you like this.
> 
> big thanks to katherine, for giving me this idea. i basically owe this to you. clare, for putting up with my whining and being the best. and also mady for yelling at me to write and finally FINISH this thing. also shannon for making the graphic. i love you all very much a lot.

By no real surprise to anyone, working an all night shift at a diner in Bristol, there isn’t a large amount of traffic going in and out of the place.

Or so he’s been told, anyway, when he was in training. “Not to put a downer on the whole, you know. Working through the night thing,” Greg, the guy training Louis had said.

“Nothing could put a damper on it, Greg,” Louis told him. He thinks his sarcasm was missed.

Right now, though, Louis is sitting in the car in the parking lot of said diner, wondering if he’s actually going to go inside or not. Seems as though if he _does_ go, he’s willingly throwing himself into this garbage shift. 

He’s going to die. Taking this job was a death sentence, and he’s willingly walked right into it.

Liam was probably right, as per fucking usual. Louis is only going to last about a week, two tops, before he inevitably quits. Though there’s only a handful of other places Louis can actually work now that he hasn’t been either been sacked from, or quit, so the options on that front are getting increasingly more slim.

He’s a grad student, for fuck’s _sake_. There is not a single reason why he can’t handle this job. 

Ten minutes before he has to actually go inside. With his forehead against the steering wheel, he considers texting Liam to meet him at their usual place for drinks instead of going through this week.

Rent is due next week, Louis so unhelpfully reminds himself, and right now he’s got a very small amount of money in his account. Small amount meaning not enough to get him a single admissions into a movie. 

He should go inside, at least. Give it a go. The good old one two, as no one says, so far as sayings go. With a groan no one but himself and his car, Denise, can hear, he finally reaches for his pack of cigarettes — putting them into the pocket of his jacket before walking up the parking lot.

Makes sense it’s raining, then, Louis thinks to himself. Matches the situation he’s got himself into, when he opens the door.

The place itself isn’t terrible. Mostly looks like one of those places you see in the movies; no sense of decor, seats from what appears to be an old eighties movie set, and the walls a hopeless colour of teal blue, somewhere near depressing but not quite yet there.

“Ah, Louis. Here for your shift?” Jade asks. Louis wants to understand why she’s smiling so much.

“Greg told me to show up, so I reckoned it was a good idea if I did,” Louis jokes. “Nice to see you again, Jade,” he says, forcing a small smile.

“You can just head into the back, meet the night staff and get yourself situated before I have to go,” she says.

There’s hardly anyone in the restaurant, as Louis looks around. Maybe it won’t be so bad, then, he thinks briefly to himself. “The night staff?” he repeats, confused.

“It’s just one other guy, in the kitchen, but it doesn’t really get too busy so you’ll be fine,” Jade reassures him. Louis is just surprised someone else is being put through this torture with him.

He makes his way through the swinging doors, wishing he’d gone for a cigarette before coming in. Before the regret can really settle he hears an unfamiliar voice in a thick Irish accent, “Hi, I’m Niall. Kitchens.”

Louis thinks he might be asleep on his feet when a hand is extended toward him. It’s rough, calloused; but still warm, the palm soft where it’s pressed into Louis’ own for a few brief seconds.

“Louis. Waiter, of sorts,” he introduces awkwardly.

This is enough to get Niall to smile, a small laugh coming just after it. “Just starting, then?”

There’s no one else in the dining area, save for a man in the corner with his laptop propped open, looking on what appears to be his tenth cup of coffee. That is, if the napkins and those tiny empty cream containers scattered around him are anything to go by.

“Yeah. Doing nights, mostly,” Louis says. 

“Welcome to the night crew, then,” Niall says, full on grinning now. “Greg said he was training someone to replace Aiden. Probably for the better.”

Louis snorts, “Wouldn’t speak quite yet. You haven’t seen me work.” 

He adjusts the ridiculous apron that’s been forced to be tied around his waist. He’s only got the bit around his waist, tucking whatever’s supposed to go over his chest underneath that. No way he’s going to let anyone see him in this stained, foul thing now, even if it’s at four in the bleeding morning.

“You make it sound like such a treat,” Louis says sarcastically.

Niall shrugs, washing his hands. “I’m sure there are worse things in the world than working all night here,” he says simply.

Louis gives him a look, “Not sure you’re right on that one, mate.”

Someone calls Louis’ name as he pushes through the door and out into the restaurant again, being ushered by Perrie to the table he’s apparently meant to go and wait on. 

“So it begins,” Louis mutters to himself, tucking a pencil behind his ear. 

— 

Turns out, being a waiter isn’t all that difficult when you’re only serving a grand total of five people per shift.

That’s not entirely true, but it feels that way. After Jade left there’d been a rush, the dinner one, as Niall had told Louis when he’d gone to pick up an order for table six; a very demanding mother and her two children. “Does it get any easier,” Louis huffed, out of breath and feeling very inadequate at his job.

Niall smiled, soft and genuine that had settled the frustration building in Louis’ chest, “Not really. But, if you want, I can save you a slice of chocolate cake for your beak.”

“Think I’m already a fan of yours, Niall,” Louis said, before walking off. 

Now, though, he’s on his break and wants nothing more than to crawl into his fucking bed. He can’t leave the diner itself, mostly because it’s only him, Niall, and someone called Dave who’s supposed to be working; but hasn’t left the bathroom nearly his entire shift. Louis thinks he’s smoking up, but Niall simply claims he “isn’t feeling well.”

The cake is good. Really fucking good. Louis needs a cigarette, pinching his thigh occasionally to remind himself that he’s quit. Been nearly a week now, since he promised Liam he’d go a month without them.

But the pack’s in his pocket, still. Like a reminder, or some kind of trophy, if Louis can actually get through this entire shift without having one.

It’s almost two in the morning. They’ve got until six. Louis feels as though his body is starting to work against him, fight against this terrible thing Louis has inflicted upon it. 

“Any good?”

Louis turns, seeing Niall in the doorway to the kitchens. The light’s brighter in there, making his bleached blonde hair look more blonde, somehow.

He’s wearing a henley, and Louis finds himself taking note of the first few buttons undone. Whatever. 

“Really good. You make this?” Louis gestures to the plate.

Niall nods, “My mom’s recipe. Taught me when I was ten, I think. For my older brother’s birthday.”

Louis hums, tapping a finger against the countertop. “It always this quiet in here?” 

His question lingers in the air a bit, the only other sound coming from the loud air conditioner at one corner of the room and the radio playing top forty hits. 

“Sometimes, yeah. It’ll pick up in a bit, though,” Niall says knowingly.

Louis raises his eyebrows, licking a bit of icing off the pad of his thumb. “Yeah? Everyone hankering for a slice of cake at two in the morning?”

“Usually around three, to be honest. All the drunk students come in,” Niall says. 

“Don’t buy it,” Louis says.

Niall shrugs, putting what looks to be his dish towel over his shoulder. “Don’t have too. You’ll see.”

And like fucking Yoda, he’s gone. All Louis is left with is a now finished plate where his cake used to be, and a swinging revolving door to the kitchens.

He really needs a fucking cigarette.

Louis takes out his phone, texting Liam.

 _bets off. i want a fucking cigarette_.

His phone chimes, when Louis hears someone singing in the back. Probably Niall.

 _U suuuuure U want to lose this Bet ? :)_

_fuck u. fine. i wont have one._

—

Unfortunately for Louis, Niall wasn’t lying.

The kids start coming in just before three, just when Louis is at one of his most difficult levels of Candy Crush. Two of them stumble in, and that’s when he knows he’s in for a fucking ride.

“You going to seat us?” One of them asks, eyeing Louis with an angry, drunken gaze.

Louis raises his eyebrows, blinking slowly. “You have first pick. Any seat in the house.”

His sarcasm is either missed or ignored, the guy muttering something about the “arsehole prick,” before shuffling off to a booth near the large front window. 

Ah, drunken college students. Louis’ favourite combination, if he’s being honest. There’s something about the way they’re snappy and rude, but doing it all with a smile. All their words slurring together, but yet they still somehow manage to craft together an insult that is actually pretty fucking good, so. To say the least, Louis is looking forward to this.

He picks up three menu’s, wishing almost immediate death upon himself as he approaches them. They’re all talking loudly, laughing and just being generally enough of a disturbance to start a headache in Louis’ head as he puts the menu’s down onto the table.

“Can I get you all something to drink?”

Their conversation, however interesting it was, was now being interrupted by Louis. The guy from before, Leather Jacket Guy — Louis’ deciding on a new nickname — stares up at him, “We’re still waiting on some more people, pal.”

Pal feels more like a punch. Louis brushes it off, tucking his pencil back behind his ear. “Let me know when you’re ready to order, then.”

He pushes through the front door, taking out his cigarettes. Fuck it. He’s going to have one. Hell, he _deserves_ one.

Fuck bets, anyway. They’re useless. Do nothing. Louis shields his cigarette from the cool, almost summer air. 

When he lights the end, he hears the bell for the door open. Not seeing anyone go through it, Louis turns. It’s Niall.

“Hi,” Louis starts, waving slowly.

“Those kids look really nice,” Niall says flatly, rubbing his arms.

“A real delight, actually. Was thinking of sitting with them for a bit, after this,” Louis says. “Getting their views on politics and their top played on iTunes.”

The light outside is flickering; probably needs to replaced. Reminds Louis of his mom’s house, because she never fixes her porch light. Always waits until he visits to ask him, though by that time the bulb won’t even flicker on anymore.

“I think that’s a really good idea,” Niall agrees. Louis sees him shiver.

“Here. Take this,” Louis says, the words muffled through the cigarette between his lips. Shrugs his jumper, handing it over.

“Thanks,” Niall says, immediately shoving his hands into the pockets. “Was going to tell you, I’m just running to the store. Ran out of milk.”

Louis tsks, “Milk is very important for a diner, I would imagine.”

“Won’t take long. Unless my roommates car fucks out on me, then I’ll be a few minutes.”

“Take your time. I doubt these guys will be demanding their food straight away,” Louis tells him.

“Alright, well. If Dave comes out, you can tell him to — clean, or something,” Niall suggests.

“Doubt I’ll see him but I’ll pass on the message,” Louis says.

Niall starts off across the parking lot, hands still in the pocket of Louis’ sweater. The concrete is still wet from the rain earlier, puddles in the holes. 

Stepping back inside, one of the guys at the table waves Louis over. Not so much _waves_ as nearly dislodges his arm from its socket, worried Louis wouldn’t see, or something.

“Ready to order?” Louis asks.

Leather Jacket Guy shakes his head, looking thoughtfully at his menu. “Was thinking we’d start with a little coffee, first,” he slurs.

Louis takes in a deep breath. “Fine. Three coffee’s.” He looks to the guy across from Leather Jacket and the Red Haired Guy. “Stop playing with those sugar shakers. If you break them, you’re buying more.”

The three of them snicker, as Louis walks away. God. It’s a little after two thirty now, and Louis has a strange feeling as though this night is never actually going to end. Just continue on, torturing him until he’s gone and turned in his apron.

The three coffee’s are the easy part, putting them down in front of the three guys a few minutes later.

“Any idea when your friends are showing up?” Louis asks, glancing to the door. No sign of Niall, either.

How long does it take to buy milk, anyway?

“Don’t know. You guys are open all night though, right?” Leather Jacket asks.

Louis wonders, briefly, what his name is. Declan, maybe. Looks like a Declan.

“Yes we are,” Louis says, taking a step back toward the cash register.

He’s about to text Liam to come and save him, when the bell dings and the door opens. Much to Louis’ dismay, it isn’t Niall. Instead, it’s three more guys and two girls who nearly fall through the door, laughing loudly and talking with one another.

Once they’re all settled in, Louis makes his way back toward the booth. He’s never going to finish that fucking level of Candy Crush.

“So. What can I start you all off with?” Louis asks, keeping his tone even.

“We’ll take a couple of Coke’s,” Leather Jacket once more begins. Louis feels his jaw tighten, exhaling. “And —”

This, of course, sparks a debate amongst them on what they all want and Louis is about to excuse himself until someone goes, “Hey. Don’t I know you?”

Louis blinks, looking over to see one of the guys who’d just come in, wearing a brightly coloured polo, looking at him expectantly. “I don’t think so?”

The guy stops, narrowing his eyes before snapping his fingers. Which has never been, nor will it ever will be, a sign of anything good to come.

“You’re friends with Adam, right? Adam Rivers?”

Hearing the name makes something inside Louis tighten, so fucking tight he’s sure he hasn’t felt that in weeks. That’s what it’s been, weeks. 

Weeks since Louis moved, back into Liam’s apartment. Weeks since all of that — happened. Weeks since Louis had to get this job, sign up for classes next fall, and get his fucking life in order.

Fuck.

“Look, I just need to take your orders, so if you don’t mind —”

“Louis!” Niall’s voice, literally Louis’ saviour. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

“I’ll be back,” Louis promises, and hopes he doesn’t have to keep it. He walks quickly across the restaurant, being sure not to look back as he approaches Niall. “Everything alright?”

“Well, kind of. One of the cartons of milk split open, so it’s all over the other things I bought,” Niall says, sounding woeful of spilled milk and frowning a bit. “Saw Dave, in the parking lot. Going home sick, or something I think he said. Couldn’t really make it out, to be honest —”

“Traitor,” Louis says. Niall nods in what could be assumed agreement. “Here, I’ll help you with those.”

“Plus, looked like you were drowning a bit out there,” Niall adds, as they walk into the kitchen.

Louis frowns, but pretends it’s at the milk and not at the fact that Niall was right. “I was fine.”

“Right, well. Now I’ve got milk all over these banana’s,” Niall says, tossing the bunch of them into the sink.

“The banana’s will be fine. No customers are going to notice,” Louis tells him.

“They’re for my roommate. He’s got, like. This thing for them,” Niall explains, wiping them off.

“Like a dirty kind of thing, or —”

Niall laughs, cutting him off, “ _Jesus_ , no.”

“Could make for an interesting horror movie, though,” Louis says.

“I’m starting to see that you’ve got a twisted mind,” Niall says, leaning against the stove.

Louis smirks, shrugging. “Should get out there. See if they want anything besides coffee.

Niall nods, letting him go. As Louis is about to step out of the kitchen, he realizes Niall’s still wearing his jumper.

But he doesn’t say anything. Likes it better on Niall, anyway.

— 

The rest of the night goes without any sort of disturbances. After the slew of drunken students leave only a handful of people come in after that. Mostly the man who’s been sitting in the corner of the place since four thirty, ordering a slice of cherry pie and coffee that Louis has been refilling every so often.

Niall’s in the back, what looks to be cleaning, and Louis is pretending he’s filling sugar shakers. Mostly, though, he’s on his phone.

It’s nearly six, which means he’s done as soon as that clock changes. Not that Louis is counting down the minutes, or anything. 

A woman comes in a few minutes later, ordering a tea and some water for her dog that’s apparently waiting out front for her. Tells Louis she’s a jogger, out of breath and he has to remind himself that people do, willingly, get up this early to do something as terrible as physical activity.

She takes her tea, black, no milk or sugar, and Louis has to visibly hold back the grimace as he watches her jog back out of the place. Makes a point of leaning over the counter to check if the dog is still breathing before going back to doing nothing.

There’s no sign of Niall until about five to six when Greg comes in, being the head cook, another waitress following behind him, Aimee.

“You don’t look too worse for wear,” she tells Louis, smirking a bit. “How was it?”

“Not too bad,” Louis says, shrugging. Playing it cool. Though one of his specialties is not playing it cool, so. “Died down after about four.”

Aimee nods, adjusting her brightly dyed hair into a ponytail, “Well get out of here, then. Go home and sleep. You deserve it.”

Louis thanks her, untying his apron and hanging it up in the back. His phone’s about to die, and he still needs to get gas on the way home. 

He’s fucking exhausted.

“How do you feel about that?” Niall asks, and Louis has no idea when he came out.

“Feel about what?” Louis asks, looking over at him.

“The shift. Think you’ll stick around?” If Louis didn’t know any better, he’d say Niall sounds a bit hopeful, standing in front of him.

Putting his bag over his shoulder, Louis punches out in the back computer. “Think I will, yeah. Only if you’re staying, though.”

Could be the lighting, but Niall could also be blushing. “I’ll be around a bit, I reckon. Greg isn’t ready to let me go quite yet.”

“Fuck Dave though,” Louis says.

“Seriously. Fucker,” Niall says in agreement.

“If any of you see him, you can let him know he’s fired,” Greg calls from where he’s putting some papers together. “Also, Tomlinson?”

Louis looks over at him, apprehensive. “Yes?”

“Did good today. See you next weekend?”

“See you then,” Louis says.

Niall walks beside him outside, keys already in hand before he pauses, “Shit. You probably want this back.”

Louis shakes his head. “It’s fine, dude. Just give it back whenever. Think I stole that from one of my mates, anyway. So it’s not even really mine.”

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Niall says.

“Very sure,” Louis confirms. 

“See you next weekend?” Niall says, opening the driver’s seat to his car.

“See you then,” Louis says, getting into his own car.

He starts the car, and doesn’t look back once he’s out of the parking lot, sun already starting to rise over the water.

— 

Before one of Louis’ classes about a week later, he gets a text. Liam’s left him some dinner before he had to go to work himself, chicken and pasta and honestly, Louis doesn’t deserve him.

_Can I come get my stuff tomorrow?_

It’s so strange, seeing Adam’s name pop up in his notifications. He’d worked so hard to _forget_ him, but here he is. Existing. Doing things, without Louis. Having a daily routine, a job, everything him and Louis went through together, just a few months ago.

Louis swallows, staring at the conversation. 

_what time?_ he sends back.

No hi, hey, or any sort of casual greeting. Not a single question of how he’s doing, since he had to move back in with Liam. 

It hurts. As if something inside Louis’ chest has tightened without warning, making it harder to breathe. And there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

_Around noon? I have to come before going to my sister’s birthday._

He doesn’t work tomorrow night, anyway, Louis thinks to himself. Could give some shitty excuse, say he won’t be there. Also the possibility of making Liam be home is even more acceptable in Louis’ eyes, than him being here.

But he’s got to do this. It’s the only way he’s going to finally let it go.

_yeah. see u then._

Louis doesn’t want to think about it anymore, or ever again.

— 

He’d met Adam in class. Adult Psychology and Behaviour Patterns, Professor Berkman. It was the entire cliched — “Can I borrow a pen?” — sort of meeting that normally makes Louis cringe, but this time didn’t.

But for them, it worked. Ever since that first day of class, him and Adam had hardly ever been separated for a long amount of time. A few days, maybe, if they were working a lot. Louis had moved into his flat after a month of dating.

Maybe they’d moved too fast. That’s why it didn’t work out. Also might be that Louis is running out of excuses for their failed shame of a relationship.

His stuff is all in a box, not having moved from their front closet since Louis moved in. Occasionally, Louis will forget it’s there, and end up kicking it while rummaging around for a different pair of shoes in the morning before class.

Here, though, he’s staring at it in the doorway of said closet. Liam’s already gone, and if Louis doesn’t leave within the next half an hour he’s going to be late himself.

Tomorrow, at noon, Adam’s going to come and pick it up. His few shirts Louis found with the rest of his clothes, a couple of pictures, some CD’s and movies. A scarf, Louis thinks he remembers putting in it. 

Either way, it isn’t much. 

Deciding against doing something drastic, such as setting it on fire, he takes a jacket before heading out the door. It’s drizzling out, the sky cloudy and fitting Louis’ exact mood as he starts the car.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, it’s nearly empty when Louis walks in. His shoes are wet, squeaking the entire time he walks into the back room.

The first person he sees is Greg, sitting at the computer. 

“Tomlinson,” Greg says, even before Louis has his jacket off. “If I said we didn’t have enough money to pay you, what would you do.”

“Be pretty pissed, probably,” Louis says.

Greg snorts, not moving where his eyes are fixated on the screen, “Fair enough. I’ll pay you then, I suppose.”

“Music to my ears, James,” Louis tells him, typing up his apron.

Niall’s in the kitchen, in front of the stove top cooking what looks to be some kind of burger.

“Hey, Niall,” Louis greets, just before pushing through the door.

Immediately, Niall’s head snaps up, face breaking out in a wide grin. “Louis! Ready for another night?”

Louis shrugs, tucking his pen behind his ear. “Been preparing the last week, so I think I might be.”

Niall laughs, the sound loud and carefree, carrying out with Louis into the restaurant. Perrie’s the last waitress with them, until eight, manning all the tables while Louis sets out to do menial tasks that he doesn’t have to think while doing. Which include: wiping menus, spraying tables with what Greg calls his “homemade cleaner”; though it mostly smells like feet and lemon, filling ketchup bottles, and drying off whatever dishes Niall gives him.

It works, for the most part, and when Greg finally leaves at nine he clasps Louis’ shoulder before he goes, telling him to call if they need anything.

As soon as the door closes, Niall comes out of the kitchens. He’s wearing plaid, is the first thing Louis notices. The second, that he’s got a very determined look on his face.

“Was thinking, and came up with a few idea’s to keep us busy. If it’s slow.”

Louis blinks, “Do any of them involve arson?”

Niall makes a face. “No, unfortunately. I’ll keep that in mind for next time, though.”

“What’s your plan for tonight, then. You’ve got me all curious now,” Louis presses, elbows propped up against the counter.

“Thought we could make up our own recipes. You know, see if they’re any good,” Niall says, wiping his hands on a damp cloth.

There’s only a small family in one booth, looking about ready to pay their bill. Louis nods, lips pulled up in a smile.

“We’ve got no time to waste, then. Shall we?”

— 

Louis has never been a cook, and Niall was very exposed to this the first few minutes of having Louis back there with him.

Right now, he’s on chopping duty, but even doing _that_ he’s under Niall’s ever so watchful eye. “Nothing’s going to burn down if I have a _knife_ ,” Louis protests.

“Limbs can be severed with knives, you know,” Niall so unhelpfully points out. “Which is equally, if not worse than a fire.”

“Enough with your safety talk,” Louis says. “I’ve got pickles to deep fry here.”

The only customer is a woman with a laptop, getting a burger before but has now moved onto coffee. Niall propped open the door to the restaurant with a box, so as to alert Louis to any incoming customers. 

“Thought you said deep fried pickles offended you as a person,” Niall says, leaning against the counter.

“That was before I’d tried one of your’s. I’m a changed person from who I was ten minutes ago,” Louis says, dropping a piece of pickle into the vat of oil.

Niall’s working on some onions, promising they’ll be as good as the pickles. When asked where he learned how to do this, Niall shrugged.

“My mom has a catering business,” Niall explains, chopping the onions so easily Louis is going to have a fit at how slowly his pickles are going. “So she showed me and my brother a lot of stuff, growing up.”

“You in school to be a chef?” Louis asks, dropping another slice of pickle in.

Niall eyes him warily, making sure neither of them are in imminent danger before he says, “Music, actually. Producing, that kind of thing.”

Louis’ eyebrows raise, whistling low. “Look at you. Big music producer. Don’t forget me when you’re famous, then.”

He’s about to ask how long these things are supposed to sit in oil for, when the door opens. Louis checks the time on his phone before going out; just before midnight, rubbing his hands on his apron to try and mask the rather strong pickle smell coming from them.

It’s an older gentlemen, placing an order for a slice of pie and a coffee. Louis brings it to him before walking back into the kitchen, only to find Niall eating a fried slice of pickle.

“Starting without me? Where are your manners,” Louis chastises.

Niall grins, licking his lips before handing a piece over. “They’re not bad. Might have been sliced a little too thick, though.”

Louis narrows his eyes, taking a bite, “They taste perfectly sliced to me, actually.”

Niall cackles, putting a piece of fried onion on his plate next. “They didn’t really turn out like onion rings. More like onion pieces.”

“The older gentlemen out there says your pumpkin pie is incredible,” Louis says, off-topic. “And these are really fucking good.”

“Horan family secret recipe,” Niall says, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Sounds very serious,” Louis says, clearly mocking him.

Niall rolls his eyes, wiping the grease off his fingers. “Pie making is very serious.”

“Oh, I believe it,” Louis says, sarcastic.

“Fuck off,” Niall says, putting his plate in the large sink. 

Louis takes his tea he’d gotten himself earlier, taking a sip. Decidedly, tea and fried pickles don’t mix very well, so he puts it down soon after taking a sip. 

“You know what we should do,” Louis starts. Niall stares at him, waiting, not saying anything. Louis continues, “Make pizza on some of those leftover hamburger buns.”

“That’s — not a bad idea. What kind of vegetables do you like?”

“Pepperoni.”

A pause. “No, like. Vegetables.”

“I just said. Pepperoni.”

This is a battle Niall knows he’s going to lose, sighing. But Louis can see the small, amused smile on his lips he’s so badly trying to play off.

“Pepperoni. Alright, then,” Niall says.

A small group of people come in, occupying Louis and giving him a way out of helping prepare the mini pizza’s. It’s the usual rush between two thirty and three, people looking to do work, the other lot of them drunk people looking for some greasy food.

“Don’t burn those pizza’s,” Louis warns when he’s picking up a double cheeseburger for table seven.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Why do you have so little faith in me, Tomlinson.”

“I have an entire world of faith in you, Horan. I’m just very hungry.”

He leaves before Niall can argue anything else, fetching coffees and tea’s, bringing plates of food and generally hating his existence. The only thing he _can_ rely on is the pizza waiting for him just one room over.

When the rush dies down, Louis hits a wall. One of the coffee brewers decided not to work anymore, which leaves him down to only one, which isn’t going to cut it — considering the amount of coffee they go through in a day.

“There’s vegetables on this.” Louis stares at the half a burger bun Niall places in front of him, by the cash register.

“You said pepperoni, so there’s pepperoni on it,” Niall replies easily.

He’s lying. Louis can’t prove it right this moment, but he is.

“There’s the essence of them on this. I can feel it.” Louis argues.

“Eat. Or I’ll eat it for you,” Niall threatens.

He pulls up one of the stools, sitting across from Louis, who finally takes a bite. “Shit,” he says, mouth still full of bread, “this is really good, Ni.”

Niall, looking pretty satisfied with himself, shrugs modestly. “I know.”

“No need to be like that,” Louis says.

He continues eating, feeling a bit more at ease from all the chaos he’d just been through serving the late night rush.

After a little while, Niall breaks the silence. “Are you feeling better?”

Louis stops, looking up at him. “What do you mean,” he asks, confused.

“Dunno. You just seemed upset earlier, that’s all,” Niall says.

“It was just, you know. Long day,” Louis says after a few moments have passed.

Niall doesn’t push it, and Louis is grateful for that. Just pushes a mug of tea toward him before disappearing back into the kitchen.

It’s nice almost, being here. Away from his flat, from any sort of memories of Adam. There’s only things that are _his_ here, feels like. His job, his apron. His mug of tea, his night shift, his mini pizza. Untouched by anything else; like a strange, dirty, safe haven. 

— 

Six comes faster than Louis was expecting. And, sure enough, both Greg and Aimee show up five minutes before.

“Looking a bit rough there, Louis. Sure you can handle the night shift?”

Louis scowls, finishing ringing a young woman through who’d come in just a short while ago, just after jogging woman and her dog. 

“I’ll have you know, Aimee, I cleaned out that back fridge.”

She pauses, eyes wide. “Shit, did you really?”

“Didn’t I ask you to clean that weeks ago?” Greg asks. Aimee ignores him.

“Maybe you’re better than I thought,” she says, winking at Louis.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting out of here,” Louis says, shaking his head as he walks back into the kitchens.

Niall’s just finishing up, by the looks of things, drying his hands on a towel and flashing Louis a smile. “Walk me out?”

Louis nods, “Someone’s got to protect you from all those joggers. If you’re not careful they’ll make you join them, or something.”

The sun’s just coming up on the horizon, oranges and yellows mixed into the sky as Louis takes out the keys to his car. He thinks Niall wants to say something, maybe ask Louis a question, but he doesn’t.

Just glances over at him, looking tired and somehow still happy. Louis doesn’t understand how he can still be smiling, if he’s as exhausted as Louis feels.

“See you next week?” Niall asks.

“Of course.”

As Louis is about to get into his car he hears Niall from across the lot, “There were peppers on your pizza! Mixed them in with the cheese!”

Louis flips him off, before closing the door and driving off. And, if he’s smiling so big his face fucking hurts, so be it. No one can see but himself.

— 

“Have you slept at all?”

Louis is in front of the television, stoned, with a bowl of crisps in his lap. There’d been a marathon of X Files on when he’d gotten home, and after a bowl Louis hadn’t seen any real reason to go all the way back to his bed.

Liam’s voice is rough with sleep, concerned. “Don’t think so,” Louis responds.

“You want something to eat? Eggs?” Liam asks, opening the fridge.

“If you’re making it, yeah,” Louis says.

The nice thing about Liam, is his ability to get Louis to talk, without even saying a word. 

He stands, putting the bowl back onto the couch before going to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. “Adam’s coming over, today.”

Liam doesn’t look up where he’s mixing his eggs, “What for?”

“Pick up a box of his shit,” Louis says, rubbing his eyes. “And, I don’t know. Rub it in my fucking face that he’s got a high paying internship at some lawyer firm.”

“Don’t think the second part is it,” Liam says. Always the optimist.

“Are you going to be around at say, noon?” Louis asks.

“Not to see Adam, no. I’m going — out.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “With that guy you’ve been seeing?”

Liam flushes. “Yes.”

He finishes the eggs, handing a plate to Louis, along with some toast. “What are you two doing, then?”

“Just hanging out, mostly. Nothing too serious.” Liam picks at his eggs, red as a fucking tomato. 

“Right, well. Probably won’t be joining you two,” Louis says.

Liam smiles a little, shaking his head. “You’ll be okay though? If you need me, you can just call.”

“I will, yeah. Thanks, Li. Really.”

There’s a faint press of lips to the top of Louis’ head before Liam goes, padding off to his room and letting the door fall shut behind him.

Louis fucked, basically.

And when there’s a knock on their door just before noon, he’s sure he’s going to be sick. Eating half a bag of crisps, some of Liam’s eggs, and cold coffee wasn’t exactly a winning combination when seeing your ex after a few months.

He’s seriously debating going out the window before putting his hand on the door handle, exhaling slowly. Once he’s counted back from ten in his head, he opens it.

“Adam. Hi.”

There he is, in Louis’ doorway, as if no time has passed. Wearing his usual jeans and shirt, buttons done up and everything in place, as it should be.

The only thing that didn’t fit, apparently, was Louis.

“Hey,” Adam starts, looking out of place. “How — are you?”

It’s awkward, and Adam’s question hangs in the air for a few moments before Louis manages to get out, “Great, yeah. Fucking fantastic.”

“Well that’s, great.” Adam says, coughing into his fist. “I just need the box, then I can go.”

“Right. Box.” Louis turns, opening the closet door behind him. “There it is, all your stuff.”

“Thanks,” Adam says, and Louis might actually let himself believe it’s sincere.

“As lovely as this has been, I have to go and, you know. Stuff, to do.” Louis says, hands shoved into the pockets of his jumper.

Adam looks at him a moment, as if on the verge of pitying Louis, or something. God. That’s the _last_ thing Louis needs, right now. Adam’s fucking pity.

“Nice to see you. The place looks good. You look good.”

“Yes, well. I did a little event called Louis gets his life together, and it seems to be working so far.”

Neither of them speak, and Louis wonders if he slams the door on his hand will that make this endless conversation finally come to close, when —

“I’m sorry.”

Louis clicks his tongue, leaning back on the balls of his heels. “What do you have to be sorry for, then.”

It sounds almost cruel, the way Louis says it. Someone would have to know Louis really well to catch it; luckily for Adam, he does know Louis. Better than most, some would argue.

“For us, this. How it all ended.” Adam clarifies. Louis feels as though he’s just swallowed an apple entirely whole, standing there, the way his throat aches with words unsaid. Feeling utterly trapped. “It hasn’t been easy for you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Louis asks flatly.

Adam gives him a look, which is answer enough to Louis’ question before he continues, “Just coming in here, pitying me. Telling me how shitty I look. Isn’t that rather swell and good, Adam, but I really, honestly, do not have the time for this terrible conversation to continue. So why don’t you go back to your car, and your sister’s birthday party, and that guy I caught you fucking a year after we’d moved in together. Sound good? You keep your life, and I keep mine. Seems a fair trade, and all.”

“Bye, Louis.”

It’s more than enough, the way Adam says it. He says it for what it is: a final goodbye. Louis doesn’t wait to watch him go, closing the door and taking out his phone.

Like everything inside of him has started caving in, been waiting for the tipping point and this was it.

He dials a number, listening to it ring.

“Louis?” Liam answers on the second ring. “You alright?”

Louis leans against the wall, sliding down onto the floor, “Fuck, Li. I don’t know what the fuck to _do_. He just — left.”

“I can be home in a bit, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

— 

“First drink’s on you, right Liam?”

They’re currently in a very crowded club, music loud and it’s just enough to make Louis feel like he can breathe, almost. 

Liam pinches his arm, “Guess so.”

“Think I’m going to get very drunk tonight,” Louis announces, leaning against the bar. Or, what little of the bar he can manage to lean against, given that half of the city of London is apparently enclosed in this tiny space.

“Don’t you work tomorrow?” Liam asks, squinting at Louis.

“That’s the beauty of overnight shifts, Liam. I don’t have to be there until six. I can sulk be hungover all day in bed, and no one will be the wiser,” Louis says.

Liam doesn’t argue, so Louis keeps drinking.

His head is spinning and pounding all at once; his limbs feel as though they’re too heavy for his body. Nothing is in focus, and Louis hasn’t thought about Adam once all night long.

Well, aside from now, maybe. 

It’s close to two in the morning. Louis is tired. Thankfully, he has Liam to help keep him on his feet.

He’s trying to find his phone, but his fingers aren’t working right. And, determined to find a bathroom, Louis turns — walking directly into someone.

“Shit, I’m sorry, fuck,” Louis slurs, his tongue partly numb.

“Louis?”

For a brief moment, Louis hasn’t a clue who’s talking to him. Then, it clicks, “Niall?”

“I didn’t know you lived around here,” Niall says, face flushed. He looks nervous, or something, Louis manages to make out his foggy head.

“Just a few minutes away. You?”

“Close by, yeah. Having fun?”

Louis nods, “Loads.”

“Should go, though. I have to get back to my friends. Could hardly leave them alone to go to the bathroom,” Niall says.

“Don’t want to keep you,” Louis says, saluting him.

Niall smiles, a little. “See you tomorrow, Lou,” he says, before pushing through the crowd.

“Who was that?” Liam asks, back at his side.

Louis frowns, “Niall, from work.”

“Seems nice,” Liam says.

“Yeah, he is,” Louis says. 

A warmth settles in Louis’ chest, Liam carefully ushering them out of the club and back to his car before Louis can think anymore on the subject.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Louis asks when they’re home, laying on the couch.

Liam looks at him a moment, confused. “Who?”

“Niall. Very cute, I think,” Louis says, as if it’s decided.

“Get some sleep, Lou,” Liam tells him gently before he drifts off.

— 

Louis is very hungover. Like, on the verge of death hungover.

“I tried to stop you,” Liam told him that morning, when Louis woke up feeling like a grand piano had fallen on his head. “But you said you’d be fine for your shift tonight.”

Shit. Work. The entire fucking night, at that fucking diner, being fucking hungover. “I’m never drinking again,” he’d told Liam, face pressed into his pillow.

“You’ve said that before,” Liam said, bringing Louis some aspirin and water before going on his way out.

Louis means it this time. No more alcohol, ever. He’s being punished enough as it is, forcing himself to get out of bed a little after five in the afternoon. A shower doesn’t help, and his head is still pounding by the time he’s finally out the door.

He leaves a note for Liam, _going to work. if i die, it’s all your fault. - louis_

The only good thing about this terrible fucking shift is Niall will be there. And, walking into the back, he’s the first person Louis sees.

“Surprised you came,” Niall says. He’s leaning against the counter, a smug expression on his face.

Louis groans, shielding his eyes from the bright lights in the back. “Put me into that blender and turn it on.”

Niall snorts, “No can do, mate. Would be a bitch to clean.”

He’s got a point. Louis hates that he has a point, can’t argue against it. Instead, reaches for his apron and gives Greg a wave before heading out into the restaurant. 

— 

By some miracle Louis doesn’t deserve, it’s slower than usual. Which means he can lay his head on the front counter, waiting for death to come, or customers to come in; depending on whatever of the two comes first.

He only lifts his head when there’s the sound of something being put down beside him. The first thing Louis sees is a plate with a piece of bread on it, a substance spread on top Louis doesn’t quite want to get that well acquainted with.

He blinks. Niall watches him, grinning out of the corner of Louis’ eye. “Eat up.”

“Think I’d rather eat my own fist,” Louis says. “The fuck is this, Horan?”

The only other person in here is the same man who comes in every weekend, at his laptop with a half eaten slice of cherry pie, so Louis doesn’t particularly feel the need to censor himself. Especially when he could hear what could be assumed very heavy screamo music coming from his headphones when Louis had gone to collect his dishes. 

“It’s my mom’s hangover recipe,” Niall explains.

Louis looks at him, skeptical. “The fact that your mother has a hangover recipe for you concerns me greatly, actually.”

“Eat it.” Niall orders.

And, for whatever reason, Louis does as he’s told. With no other incentive than that it’s going to help the pounding in his head lessen.

Once in his mouth, Louis is about two seconds away from spitting it out. Judging by the face he’s making, Niall’s very clearly amused, pushing a glass of water toward him.

“The fuck is this,” Louis says. “Oh my God, I’m going to die.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Niall says. “And don’t insult Mother Horan’s hangover remedy.”

“This isn’t a remedy, it’s death sentence.”

“Enough with death, please. You’re killing the mood in here,” Niall says, but he’s grinning.

“What mood,” Louis snaps, glaring at the piece of bread. “Tell me what this is.”

“Bread,” Niall starts. “With mushed banana on top.”

Louis just about throws up all over his just cleaned counter. Or, he assumes it’s cleaned from earlier. And he doesn’t want to be the one to clean it now.

“I hope you know this is absolutely disgusting,” Louis says, every part of himself serious.

“I hope you know this is an old family tradition,” Niall says.

“Traditions are made to be broken,” Louis says.

But, for whatever reason, Louis eats the fucking thing. Probably because he feels bad, knowing Niall made this to help him and for some reason, that means he has to finish this entire thing.

When he does, Niall’s still there, and Louis can feel his gaze on him. “So, funny story.”

“Horan.” Louis says, voice low.

“That’s not actually my mom’s hangover remedy,” Niall continues.

“I’m going to put you in the dishwasher,” Louis says. “Lock it. Throw away the key.”

“Just, hold on. I’ll be back,” Niall says.

When he’s gone, someone else comes in. Orders a tuna melt and salad, which isn’t what Louis would recommend at half past four in the morning, but decides against telling them this. Instead, gets them their tea and puts the order through to Niall, and resumes his position with his head resting on top of the counter.

A little over an hour to go. He can do this. Maybe.

The next thing Louis knows, there’s another plate being put beside him. He doesn’t move. “Not falling for that again, thanks,” he says, muffled.

“You don’t even know what it is,” Niall says in response.

“Is there banana in it.”

“No,” Niall responds, and it’s so genuine Louis feels a tug in his chest.

Finally, in defeat, he lifts his head. Before him, is what looks to be an assortment of the most greasy breakfast food Louis has ever laid eyes on. Greasy, but also exactly what he needs to stop the pounding in his head.

“And you didn’t bring this out before because you hate me, right?” Louis asks, picking up his fork. “Honestly, Horan, I could kiss you for this.”

“Eat it, idiot. I’ll bring you some coffee,” Niall tells him.

Before he goes, however, he reaches out — Niall’s hand coming to gently grip at Louis’ arm, for a few moments. It’s warm, how it had been when Louis had first shook his hand a few weeks ago now, sending a shiver up his back.

Without saying a word, Niall’s gone, and Louis is left with a mouthful of beans and wondering what the fuck just happened. 

— 

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. Best breakfast I’ve ever had, hands down,” Louis says, adamant.

“You kiss your mother with your lying mouth?” Niall asks, flicking his drying cloth toward Louis. 

It’s six, and Louis cannot wait to get into his car and go home so he can never leave his bed. Taking his jacket and bag, phone dead in his pocket since he’d forgotten to charge it before work, him and Niall head out.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you survived tonight,” Niall says. “Don’t know if I could handle anyone else during the night shift.”

Louis smiles, can’t help himself, shrugging where his hands are in the pocket of his jacket.

As always, the sun’s slowly starting to rise; greeting him and Niall where they’re standing in the parking lot.

“I’m honoured, Horan. Usually people would’ve tried to have me fired by now,” Louis says, putting a hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture.

Niall smirks, “Tried that, but it seems Greg’s too attached you.”

Louis rolls his eyes, shoving Niall’s shoulder lightly. “Fuck off, then.”

“See you next week?”

And, looking over his shoulder, Louis looks at Niall. Can barely make out his face, in the bright light of the sunrise, but he looks — striking, is the first word that comes to Louis’ mind. Shoulders squared, watching Louis.

“Yeah. See you then, Ni.”

It’s how Louis is going to remember him, from this moment on. Eyes as bright as the colours behind him.

— 

Despite the tragedy that was last weekend, Louis manages to let Liam convince him to go out again this upcoming one.

“This is a terrible idea,” Louis says, walking through the pub doors.

“None of my idea’s are terrible,” Liam says.

Louis scoffs, but follows Liam inside anyway. There’s a booth near the back, both of them sliding in while Liam goes to get some drinks. It’s a bit crowded, chatter and conversation all around Louis as he tips his head back, exhaling.

He’s exhausted. Has to write a fuck ton of papers for school, and he’s started not even one of them. Not too mention a research project, and a presentation in the next couple of months. 

“Got you a beer,” Liam says, putting one in front of him.

“Bless you, Liam. Truly,” Louis says, tipping the bottle back to his mouth.

There’s some band Liam likes playing tonight, which is the sole purpose of them being here. 

“So who are we seeing again?” Louis asks.

“This guy, his name’s Ed. Have a few classes with him, and he told he was a singer. Thought it wouldn’t hurt to check out his set.”

Louis shrugs, blinking slowly. “Shouldn’t be too bad.”

Work isn’t until the usual time tomorrow, so it’s not like he’s in any rush to get out of here. Being away from his flat, with all his unfinished work is a nice change of pace in Louis’ life where he’s currently sitting.

He excuses himself after a moment, Liam nodding as Louis pushes himself out of the booth; he needs a fucking cigarette. Of course, not disclosing this to Liam, he goes out the back door. Lights the thing between his lips and inhales, then follows by an exhale.

The standard, usual motions Louis has grown so accustomed too. Brings him a small sense of comfort, being able to do it. There’s still the sounds of everyone inside, conversation and commotion, movement and the constant clinking of glass. Chaos that calms the emotions in his chest.

With the end of it stomped under the heel of his foot, Louis makes his way back inside. Spots Liam at their booth and starts to weave his way through the crowd of people that feels as though it’s doubled in size, when, 

“Louis?”

He turns, nearly hitting his head off of someone’s shoulder he doesn’t know, seeing Niall a few feet away. It’s as if he’s time travelled, standing there. Been transported to couple of weekends ago, when the same thing happened.

Only this time, Louis is sober. And can see that Niall very clearly isn’t wearing his usual diner get up. Has swapped his work jeans for a tighter pair, wearing a t shirt and flannel on top of it. He looks good, Louis thinks in a fit of panic. Really good. Unfair, actually, how good he looks.

But, talking, right, Louis helpfully reminds himself, “Niall, hi. How — are you?”

“Good. Just, you know. Here for the show.”

“You know the guy playing?” Louis asks, glancing to the tiny, makeshift stage. 

“Take some classes with him, actually,” Niall says. “He’s really fucking good.”

Louis makes the connection almost immediately; it means he knows Liam. Small world, Louis thinks to himself.

“Seems like it,” Louis says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Niall! There you are. Don’t go disappearing like that, this crowd’s too big to go losing you,” a voice Louis doesn’t know says, approaching the two of them, slinging a casual arm around Niall’s shoulders.

Oh, Louis thinks, feeling his heart drop out of his chest. Niall, not noticing this, makes a face as he pushes the arm off, “You’re only doing that because your fucking phone died so you can’t text your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. The word repeats in Louis’ mind; he relaxes.

Other boy makes a face, clearly unhappy. “I came to spend time here with _you_ , Ni. Roommate night out, all that.”

“All that,” Niall repeats, rolling his eyes. “Harry, this is Louis. Louis, this is Harry. Ignore any and all things he says from here on out, please.”

Harry looks at Louis, lips curling into a wide smile. “So _you’re_ Louis.”

Niall face flushes, and Louis finds himself enjoying the colour of his cheeks, elbowing Harry without a hint of subtlety. “Have you heard about me, then?” Louis asks, instantly curious.

Harry nods, “Heard lots about you. Especially enjoyed the story where you ate an entire piece of toast with mashed banana. Can’t believe you actually fucking did it.”

“You told him that story?” Louis asks, attempting to sound at least a tiny bit appalled. 

“It was a good story,” Niall defends.

“Are you guys sitting anywhere?” Louis asks, veering the topic off of mashed banana rather quickly, “cause you join me and my flatmate, if you’d like.”

Niall nods, him and Harry following behind Louis.

“Liam?”

Louis pauses, watching Harry grin over at him. “You didn’t text me back,” is the first thing Harry says, sliding in next to Liam.

“Left my phone back at the flat,” Liam explains, and oh God, Louis is now putting the pieces together. 

“Wait,” Niall says, looking between the two of them. “You’re — Liam? Like, Harry’s Liam?”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” Louis says to him, “I have a weak stomach, please. Think of me.”

“This is Niall?” Liam asks.

“You were going to meet him eventually,” Harry says flatly.

“Same to you, I guess,” Louis says, going in next to Harry. Niall follows, sitting beside Louis. The booth now feels significantly smaller.

“So you work with Louis?” Liam asks, leaning over to get a good look at Niall. “That must double your workload.”

Louis scoffs, reaching over to flick Liam’s arm in retaliation. “I’ll have you know I do my fair amount of work.”

“Mostly true,” Niall agrees. Louis shoots him a look. “You living with him must be a world of it’s own, though.”

“Oh my God,” Louis says, appalled. “You’re supposed to be my _friends_.”

“He’s not the worst, actually,” Liam says, as if this should surprise Niall. Arsehole.

He pointedly ignores the way Liam and Harry are holding hands under the table, made even worse by the ever growing smile on Liam’s face at the contact. Gross. Louis wants to be set on fire immediately, thanks.

“If you two both know the guy playing tonight,” Louis starts, “doesn’t that mean you take classes together?”

Liam and Niall exchange looks, and Louis leans back against the cushioned booth. “Are you in Markman’s theory class? Nine am?” Liam asks.

Niall’s eyes widen in recognition, “Shit, yeah, you’re in there too, aren’t you? Thought you looked familiar.”

“Stop hitting on my boyfriend, Niall,” Harry says, narrowing his eyes.

“Shut up, idiot,” Niall says, laughing loudly.

Harry grins, and Louis wonders how on earth he got himself into this situation. “Drinks? Anyone?”

Liam nods for another beer, Harry asking for one himself. By the time Louis has gotten himself out of the booth, Niall’s standing beside him.

“I’ll just, go with you,” Niall says. “Seems like a better option than trying to play staring contest between those two.”

“They’re not that bad —” Louis stops himself, seeing Liam and Harry’s foreheads pressed together where they’re talking together, “I take that back. All of it.”

The bar’s only slightly packed, Niall and Louis managing to get through and order their round of beers. 

“You know the guy, then? Ed?” Louis asks, taking a drink of his beer. “Close, tight friends?”

“Wouldn’t say we’re all that close,” Niall says. “We’ve played together a few times, but he’s a good guy. Him and Harry knew each other before I met him in uni, actually.”

Louis nods, “You’ve known Harry a while?”

“Since first year at uni,” Niall starts, bracing one elbow against the bar. Louis has no intentions of returning Harry and Liam’s drinks to them, and Niall doesn’t seem to mind one bit. “He lived down the hall from me. First time I met him, he was in his boxers, trying to heat up some frozen pizza.”

“Doesn’t seem out of character,” Louis comments, tracing absent designs on the bar top.

“And, I don’t know. Haven’t been sick of each other since.”

“Sounds like me and Liam, almost.”

“Almost?” Niall repeats, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“I was really drunk, at a club. And he drove me back to my flat,” Louis explains. Niall bites his lower lip, trying to hold back a grin and failing quite terribly at it. “Haven’t been able to shake him, after that.”

“Liam seems great, though,” Niall says.

“Yeah,” Louis says in agreement.

He opens his mouth to say something, until there’s a voice at the front of the pub. “Hi, everyone. Jesus, there’s a lot of you here,” they begin, strumming a chord on his guitar. “I’m Ed, and I’m playing a gig here, tonight. So if you’re looking for another artist, I suggest you go out and check another pub down the street.”

Louis laughs, a little, running a hand through his hair. Ed keeps talking, but all Louis can really focus on the way Niall presses up against his side, warm and just enough that it’s barely there. But Louis knows he’s there, can feel the chills up his spine that make it very real.

He doesn’t move, and neither does Niall. 

And some point during the set, Niall’s brush up against the back of Louis’ hand. Warm, ghosting along his skin. 

Louis could get used to this, he decides.

— 

“You two seemed cozy during Ed’s set.”

Him and Liam are walking home, Niall and Harry having gone a little while before them. The set had gone really well, Louis was very impressed, with the four of them sitting together for a bit afterward. Louis still couldn’t shake the feeling of Niall beside him, his fingertips brushing Louis’ hand, but kept it to himself. 

Louis looks over at him, then, brows furrowed, “What do you mean.”

“Dunno, you were standing really close, is all,” Liam comments.

“Yes, well. Niall smelled good,” Louis says. “Better than all that stale beer and smoke.”

Liam isn’t convinced. But, doesn’t push it. 

It isn’t until they’re rounding the corner to their flat does Liam speak again, voice quieter than before, “Started smoking again?”

Louis pauses at their door, exhaling. Doesn’t take his hands out of his pockets, studying the concerned expression on Liam’s face. “How’d you figure it out, then.”

“You left your can, outside on the back deck,” Liam says. “Putting it behind that old bike wasn’t exactly the most discreet of places.”

“Probably right,” Louis says, as they step inside. 

“Night, Louis.”

“Night, Liam.”

He goes to bed, thinking only of how Niall’s hands would fit in his.

God, he’s a walking, living, breathing cliche.

— 

By the time his shift rolls around the next weekend, Louis hasn’t had a lot of sleep. Stayed up most nights working on his papers, feeling stressed and over caffinated, which is never a good combination. 

Greg gives him a concerned look the moment he steps into the back room, “You alright to work, Tomlinson?”

Louis hangs up his coat. “Perfectly fine. Why?”

“Just. Looks like you’ve been hit by a truck, is all.”

“Cheers,” Louis says flatly, taking his apron and stepping out in the restaurant. 

Jade passes the torch, so to speak, already halfway out the door before Louis even has a chance to properly punch in.

Louis’ head is throbbing. He needs more than three hours of sleep, and a chance to do something _other_ then looking at a computer screen for long periods at a time.

“Greg’s quite the complimenter,” Niall’s voice comes.

“With an added touch of sensitivity,” Louis adds.

“Can hear you all, you know,” Greg says as he walks out of the back room, coat in hand. “I’ll talk to you guys later, alright? Have a good night.”

They wave him off, and Louis wonders how the fuck he’s going to make it through yet another shift here. 

Luckily for Louis, Niall seems to be the solution to all his troubles, as of late.

The night carries on, and it’s a big busier than normal. Niall comes out at some point, making meals and helping wait some tables, since nearly half the restaurant is full, it’s a lot for one person to tackle alone.

It isn’t until a little after five, does the rush die down. “Fucking hell,” Louis mutters, sliding onto a stool, “I thought that was never going to end.”

Niall, bless his beautiful, Irish heart, slides a cup of much needed coffee toward Louis, “A rush always has to end at some point.”

“Your life motto?”

“Nah, read it on a cereal box,” Niall jokes. Louis flips him off.

They don’t say much, after that, and Louis finds he’s alright with it. Settled into a comfortable silence that isn’t awkward, and neither of them seem to have a problem with it.

Aimee comes in at her scheduled six, pinching Louis’ cheek before him and Niall excuse themselves to the back. 

It’s a warmer June morning, the sunlight warm on Louis as they finally get out the doors.

“Was thinking,” Niall starts, looking over at Louis.

Louis nods, and Niall continues, “There’s this cool place — just a few minutes away, if you want to check it out.”

“Do they have breakfast,” Louis’ immediate question.

“You’re leaving a twenty-four diner that specializes in breakfast,” Niall reminds him.

“Would rather not eat where I’ve been working the past thirteen and a half hours, thanks,” Louis says.

Niall smiles, a little, and Louis follows him out of the parking lot. They walk for a while, and it feels like Niall’s telling him a secret, in-step beside one another.

The water’s loud beside them, a sound Louis has gotten very used to over the years. But sometimes, if he hasn’t been there much in the past little while, it feels like he’s hearing it again for the first time.

Nice knowing there’s a chaos he can’t control, just under these docks. An entire other world, untouched.

They keep going, no one else really on the docks, minus a few joggers passing them by, finally reaching what looks to be an old wooden bench. “Wait here,” Niall instructs, and Louis does as he’s asked.

Sitting is nice, after the tiny hell his shift had just brought upon him. 

Niall comes back into view a few minutes later, to-go cups and paper bags in his hands. Louis watches, chest light and heart beating in his chest, hard and real and something he never felt with Adam, he realizes.

“Best coffee in the city,” Niall promises, handing Louis a warm cup. “And a cherry danish.”

“Not bad, Horan,” Louis say, impressed.

“Took a chance with the danish, if I’m honest,” Niall admits, coming to sit beside him. Their knees are touching. Louis bites the inside of his cheek, to keep from smiling too much. “Could’ve been a chocolate croissant, if you’d rather.”

“No, no. I love cherries and danishes, so this is fine by me,” Louis reassures him.

“You just, seemed stressed. So I thought I’d take you here,” Niall explains, picking at his own danish. Looks like blueberry, staining the pads of his fingers with the colour of the same name.

“Where is here, exactly,” Louis asks, taking a sip of coffee.

Niall looks out across the water before saying anything, “My mom used to take me here, when I was younger. Just after her and my dad split. Was kind of weird, having two separate homes. And I think she could tell I was feeling out of place. So we’d come here, me and my brother. Eat danishes and sometimes kick a ball around.”

Louis is quiet for a moment, feeling the warmth of coffee in the palm of his hand, wishing it was Niall’s in his instead. “And it’s kind of like, home. Which is weird, I suppose, because home is supposed to be a house, or something. But it’s always felt like here, being home.”

His voice is soft, softer than Louis has ever heard it before. Can see the glassy look in Niall’s eyes, one Louis is very familiar with. 

“It’s beautiful,” Louis tells him, voice hushed in the morning stillness.

With the sun rising, sky painted with colours and Niall’s blue-stained fingers; Louis can’t imagine a more peaceful moment.

“Welcome home, then, Niall.”

They watch until the sun comes all the way up, the quiet saying more than any words could.

— 

“How have you never made a salad before.”

Louis scowls, not saying anything to Niall where he’s currently standing at a counter, knife in hand. “What’s the point of having lettuce, when I could just have a burger instead. Put lettuce on it. Problem solved.”

“Not quite,” Niall says, smiling into the back of his hand.

“Stop mocking me and direct me, Horan. I’m a bit lost at sea here,” Louis snaps, no heat behind it.

Niall steps closer, and Louis tries to pretend like he doesn’t notice how good Niall smells. Wearing cologne on an overnight shift. Nothing out of the ordinary. All Louis smells like is cigarette smoke and clothes picked off his floor.

Though Niall doesn’t seem to mind. They make a salad, then two burgers for the two of them, and Louis is shocked he doesn’t burn the entire place down in the process. 

“Not bad, you know,” Niall says, taking a bite out of a fry.

“I do pride myself in my cooking,” Louis tells him simply.

“Did you put your salad into that napkin,” Niall asks, pointing to it.

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” Louis says, accosted. 

Niall laughs, and it’s almost four in the morning but it doesn’t seem to bad, being awake this early. Not anymore. 

— 

Sunday morning, after Louis’ long Friday overnight shift, he can’t sleep. It’s half past three, and all he can seem to do is lay on his bed.

Liam’s asleep, and for good reason, Louis reminds himself. He could shower, because it feels as though the chances of him getting any sort of rest is not going to happen at this rate.

Slowly, he sits up, ignoring the weight of his exhaustion settling in on him. Pads down the hallway into the bathroom, wincing at the bright light.

Turns the water hot, and steps under its spray. It helps a bit, the heat; makes Louis feel like he can pretend he’s got his life together, for the few minutes he spends washing himself. 

Washes his hair, rinsing himself off before stepping out once the water is off. But Louis still feels restless, as if every part of him is on edge. A strong sense of want is tugging at him, though for what he has no fucking clue.

Once back in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed Louis thinks, fuck it, and reaches for his phone. Types a text and sends it, watching the blue bubble with the ‘Delivered’ underneath it.

He’s been laying on his back for God knows how long, when his phone buzzes. Surprised, Louis checks it.

It’s from Niall. _Why Ru awake ! Go to sleep idiot_

Louis smiles into his pillow, like some idiot, before typing back, _caaaaaaant sleep. why are u awake, horan_

_Can’t sleep either ! Been awake since Stupid o’Clock_

_im coming over_ Louis replies.

Niall sends back a string of smiling emoji’s, which Louis takes as a positive response, getting out of bed for a second time.

His flat is about a fifteen minute walk from Louis’, which isn’t bad, all things considered. Doesn’t mind the early morning air; can help clear his head.

It just feels too _full_. Too many thoughts, emotions, all moving around, never giving him a moment's rest. 

The streets are quiet, sun not quite yet in the sky as Louis walks along. Niall’s flat comes soon enough, walking up to the front door and knocking. Maybe it’s weird, him being here. Like he’s crossed some sort of unspoken boundary.

“Louis,” Niall says once the door opens, grinning. “Come on in.”

Louis steps in, all worries and tension slipping away as he smirks, “Far too cheerful for someone awake before a decent hour of the morning.”

Niall shrugs. He’s wearing a tank top and pair of shorts, closing the door behind Louis. “Harry’s still asleep.”

“Weird. Thought he’d be awake with the rest of the world,” Louis says flatly. They walk into the front room, going to sit on a couch.

“Could sleep through a fucking earthquake, I think,” Niall says. Louis tucks his toes under Niall’s thigh, a little cold from his walk.

“Wish I could say the same,” Louis says, leaning his head back.

He lets his eyes close for a few moments, exhaling slowly. “Got class tomorrow?” Niall asks after a few moments.

Louis nods, “Not till noon, though.”

Truthfully, he’s grateful for the silence. Knowing Niall is there in it calms Louis somehow, makes all the clutter in his head feel like it’s lessened. 

“You hungry? Want me to make you something?”

After a moment, Louis opens an eye. “Is this a trick or something.”

Niall laughs, soft in the morning. His eyes are puffy; Louis wonders why he can’t sleep, either. “No trick. I’ll be back in a bit.”

There’s a gentle grip on Louis’ arm, before Niall gets up. Any other day and Louis would’ve agreed to help, but sleep has managed to get a grip on him. 

He falls asleep to Niall’s familiar humming in the kitchen.

—

He wakes up to the smell of tea.

Louis shifts, surprisingly the most comfortable he’s felt in weeks, to see Niall beside him on the small couch. “You really passed out there, mate,” Niall says, smiling.

“Was tired, I guess,” Louis says, propping himself up. “What’s this, then.”

He’s referring, of course, to the food left on the small table beside the couch. Eggs, toast, tea, beans, and fried tomatoes. 

“What’s it look like,” Niall says, handing him a plate. “Breakfast.”

“Went all out for me, didn’t you Horan,” Louis says.

“Shut up,” Niall says, trying to mask his smile with his mug of steaming tea.

There’s music playing, from Niall’s laptop, which is open on other side of the room, along with a guitar. Louis stares at them a moment, taking a bite of his bread.

“Writing a song about me?” he asks, hearing Niall make a muted sound of protest.

“Not everything is about you, Louis,” Niall says back.

Louis makes a face, shaking his head and points his fork at Niall, “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ll see one day, young one.”

Niall rolls his eyes, his own plate almost finished where it’s on his lap. Louis doesn’t say anything; just watches, as Niall puts it down and walks across the room.

He starts strumming a chord, and Louis looks, where the guitar is propped up against Niall’s knee. If it were any other day Louis would’ve made a joke of some kind, with a snapback backward on Niall’s head, cheeks flushed and with his oversized tank top.

Then, Niall starts singing.

“I’m like a crow on a wire,” his voice is quiet, so as not to wake a sleeping Harry; Louis finds himself unable to look away. “You’re the shining distraction that makes me fly…”

And he’s good. Really fucking good, Louis thinks, putting his plate down. “I’m a boat on the water, you’re the raise on the waves that calms my mind…”

It’s pretty incredible, the way Niall’s fingers move along the strings. He keeps with the first verse, heading into a chorus, and Louis finds himself completely captivated. 

There’s a way Niall sings, jaw set and eyes focused on his fingers, that Louis thinks he might love the most. Or how he sounds, raspy; like he’s just gotten out of bed. How Louis has always somehow imagined he’d sound, without even realizing he’d been thinking about that.

“That wasn’t, like. Anything major,” Niall says once he’s finished, guitar back leaning against the wall. “Just something me and Harry started, actually.”

“It’s really good,” Louis says. Niall shakes his head. “I’m serious, Ni.”

He looks up at the nickname, cheeks flushed and with the morning light on him through the window. Louis blinks, tries to snap out of it. Whatever _it_ is.

Niall’s still looking at him, and Louis is sure he feels something between them. Real and heavy and it’s like that want he’d felt earlier, back at his flat —

“Going to kill you, Horan,” comes Harry’s voice, feet coming down the hallway. “I really mean it this time.”

“You said you needed to be up for work,” Niall says. “This was me, making sure you’re up for work.”

Louis exhales. Relaxes where his hands were bunched at his sides. “Well, I’m up. And I absolutely hate you.”

Niall grins, “Morning. We have a guest.”

“Who would want to be here at six in the morning with _you_ —” Harry starts, and pauses. “Oh. Hi, Louis. Didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Hi, Harry,” Louis says, biting back a grin. “You’re looking very well rested.”

“Fuck off,” Harry says, flicking Louis’ arm. “Did you make me any breakfast, then,” he asks, looking pointedly at Niall.

“Sorry, no,” Niall responds, not a hint of guilt on his features.

“You never fucking make breakfast and the one time you do, nothing,” Harry says, eyeing Louis’ plate in silent question.

“Finish it,” Louis says, passing it up to him. Harry accepts it, saying a muttered thank you before going to turn on the kettle.

“Don’t listen to a word he says, please,” Niall adds.

“Was thinking,” Harry says, now in the doorway once more. Louis rather enjoys the annoyed look Niall gives him. Harry ignores it and continues, “That chorus is good. We just need some kind of, bridge.”

“For what, the song?” Niall asks. Harry nods. “Could do. You’ll be home tonight to work on it?”

“Yeah. Done work at four,” Harry says, finishing up Louis’ toast. “Have fun, doing whatever you’re doing. Not sleeping, apparently.”

“Bye, idiot,” Niall says, waving him off as he goes.

“Should probably go home and try to sleep in my own bed, maybe,” Louis says after hearing the sound of Harry’s door close.

“Might be a good idea,” Niall agrees. 

Before going heading to the door, Louis goes into the kitchen. Niall follows, making a confused sound as Louis goes toward the counter. Picks up a pan to wash it, holding up the brush and starting the tap. 

“What on earth are you doing,” Niall asks. Out of the corner of his eye, Louis can see his arms crossed over his chest.

“What’s it look like,” Louis asks flatly in response.

“Go home. Sleep,” Niall says, though it sounds more like a direct order.

“Look at all these fucking dishes,” Louis says, motioning, as if this will help prove his point more. “I can’t leave you to do them all.”

“Most of them are Harry’s,” Niall says, shrugging. “And it’s night to do dishes tonight, so. Nothing for you to feel bad about.”

Louis takes in a deep breath, a mixture of defeated and exhausted. “Alright,” he says, putting down the brush.

“Good.”

Once at the door, shoes on, Niall pauses. “I’ll see you next weekend?”

“Unless I can’t sleep, then yes,” Louis says.

“Door’s always open,” Niall says, genuine and quiet.

“Maybe then you’ll tell me why _you_ can’t sleep,” Louis adds.

“Bye, Louis,” Niall says, smiling at him as Louis takes a step out the door and onto the street.

With one last look, Louis goes, hands in his pockets and wondering what the fuck he’s doing.

— 

“Are you fucking kidding me with this, Horan.”

“I don’t kid about superheroes, Tomlinson.”

Louis sighs, rubbing his hands along his face. “You need a serious education, my friend.”

It’s been pissing rain the entire week, so that means they’ve had a grand total of two customers tonight. Louis’ got his feet propped up beside the cash register, tea at hand and looking where Niall’s frowning at him.

Outside, the rain’s falling down hard, loud against the window; but Louis doesn’t mind. Prefers, actually.

“Well, this is just disappointing, then,” Louis huffs childishly.

Niall laughs, and it’s nearly six. Louis’ big plans for the day include sleeping, eating occasionally, and possibly marathoning a show. In no particular order.

“Didn’t know you had such high expectations for me,” Niall says, picking at his plate of food.

Louis snorts, poking the back of Niall’s hand gently. There’s thunder. Reminds him of when he was little, and him and his sisters would sit in the living room, listening. Lottie would be scared the most, usually, curling up against Louis’ side.

He’d always tell her that it wasn’t anything serious, that it was just the sky’s way of saying hello, or something like that. It calmed her down enough, breathing evenly against Louis’ chest, the rest of them sitting with a flashlight between them, their mum gone, working late.

“Not expectations. I thought you were beyond this kind of life,” Louis says, half serious.

“What, liking Superman? What’s so bad about him, then?” Niall asks, immediately defensive.

“No one genuinely likes Superman, Niall,” Louis says. “That’s like you saying like vanilla ice cream when you could have chocolate.”

“I like vanilla over chocolate,” Niall says.

“Oh my God,” Louis mumbles, letting his head drop. “That’s it. We can’t be friends anymore.”

“Fine, then. No more cake for you,” Niall says.

Louis glares at him over his arm. “This is the thanks I get, for being your friend. For guiding you in the ways of the world.”

“You’re not my mother,” Niall points out.

“Thank you for that. No, I’m not your mother, thankfully,” Louis says sarcastically.

Niall laughs, taking his plate. “Better get your feet off the counter before Greg catches you.”

“Too late,” Greg’s voice comes through the front doors. Louis grins. “Tomlinson, get your feet off the counter.”

Louis doesn’t move. Greg looks at Niall, helpless and tired, “I tried.”

“Amazing,” Niall says, rolling his eyes, “you can literally get away with anything.”

Louis winks at him, “Now you’re catching on.”

Aimee’s in a few minutes later, which is Louis’ cue to go, picking up and going into the back to collect his things. 

“It’s absolutely pissing outside,” Niall comments.

Across the room, Greg snorts. “You think? Make a great weatherman, Horan. Should consider a career change.”

Niall flips him off. Louis smirks, slinging an easy arm around his shoulders as they push back out into the restaurant. 

Louis pulls his hood over his head, Niall doing the same as they stand under the step that’s covering them from the rain. 

“I’ll see you next weekend?” Louis asks, watching the way Niall’s lips turn up into a smile.

“Yeah, for sure,” he says.

For a brief moment, Niall wraps his fingers around Louis’ wrist, before disappearing into the rain. And, for the entire way home, Louis can still feel his warmth there — short, but very real.

— 

Saturday night, after his night shift Friday night, Louis is home. Liam’s out with Harry, no surprise, and he’d opted out for taking the flat to himself for the few hours of peace and quiet.

Not that Liam’s particularly loud, it’s just. Nice to have a space to yourself.

There’s a Skins marathon on, and finding himself a fan, keeps it on. Too tired to do anything else but sit on the couch, not thinking about his papers or work, nothing. 

At least everyone on this show is about as fucked up as he is, Louis thinks to himself sadly, knees pulled up to his chest. His mom called earlier, talking about the twins and the girls, mostly. The usual updates, which was nice. 

He’s debating ordering a pizza, when his phone goes off. Probably Liam, drunk and needing to be a sap, as he sometimes gets. Bracing himself, Louis hits the answer button, “Payne? That you? How drunk are you?”

There’s a pause, then, “Louis?”

Fuck.

Louis sits up right away, the voice hitting him like a brick fucking wall. “Adam?”

“I’m, like. Really fucking drunk,” he slurs on the other line. Louis is going to be sick.

“Congratulations,” Louis says flatly. “Any other reason you’re calling? Telling me the sky is blue?”

“You’re such an arsehole sometimes,” Adam starts. Louis braces himself, closing his eyes. “But I know you’re only like that because you’re hurting.”

“I’m hanging up on you now.”

“I miss you, Louis.”

Funny how, just a few short months ago, this was all Louis wanted to hear. Some sort of apology, in the fuck way Adam went about doing things, and apparently drunk apologizes is one of those ways.

But that was months ago. It’s different than now, Louis thinks to himself as he inhales. “And you called to tell me that? Should’ve gone for the subtle Facebook status.”

“Don’t be a dick right now,” Adam snaps. “I’m trying to apologize.”

“Kind of a shitty one, if I’m honest.” Louis pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Just, come back. I shouldn’t have fucked Jeremy. I fucked it all up, and I’ve been thinking about you for weeks, Louis — fuck. I thought you’d come back, or text, or call, or _something_.”

“Like the element of surprise,” Louis says.

“Let’s fix this. I promise I’ll do better.”

Louis closes his eyes, tight. Pretends this is some sort of fucked up dream. Could they fix it? Or would it go back to how it was? Would Louis realize how he’d been strung along for a fucking year, moving in with him? Planning his life around this guy who now, after months apart, calls to apologize? Only months after. Only because Louis wasn’t the one who caved first, like Adam thought he would.

“We’re not going to fix anything, Adam.”

“I’ll call back when I’m sober. Probably a better idea —”

Louis cuts him off, “No. You’re not going to call back. And we aren’t going to fix this, because there’s nothing to fix. We aren’t a we anymore, you and I. It’s you, and it’s me. Separate. You fucked Jeremy, and I fucked off. It’s that simple. Nothing else is going to happen, alright?”

“Louis —”

“Don’t Louis me. You need to call a cab, and get yourself home. And next time you think to call me, don’t. Understand? This is the end. No more drunken calls, or texts. No more nothing.”

He hangs up, and that’s it. Truthfully, Louis never knew how this particular conversation with Adam was going to go, in the end. A part of him always thought that he would end up taking him back, telling him to come over. But, as it turns out, that isn’t what Louis wants. In no way is that what he wants, now.

Louis knows what he wants. Has known for a long time now, feels like; he takes out his phone.

— 

It’s nearly two in the morning, when Niall shows up at the docks.

His shoulders are huddled in the cool, Bristol morning air. Wearing a large jumper and track pants, walking along the concrete. Louis watches him, eyes tired and feeling his heart pound as soon as he spots him.

“Hi,” Louis greets, voice low.

Niall looks over at him; his gaze feels brighter than the sun. “Hi,” he echoes, soft.

“Sorry I called you so late. Or, early. I don’t know which it is,” Louis says.

There’s a few people down the way, talking loudly with one another and swaying. Probably drunk. 

“It’s fine,” Niall tells him, with that familiar sincerity that makes Louis’ chest tighten. “Everything alright?”

Louis’ hands are in his lap, wringing his fingers together awkwardly. “Adam called me, a little while ago.”

Niall’s thoughtfully quiet before asking, “What did he want?”

“Well, he was pissed out of his fucking mind, for starters,” Louis says. Keeps his gaze down, isn’t sure he wants to see what Niall’s face looks like. “Told me he missed me. That he wanted me back.”

He wonders if Niall’s got that same, jealous expression Louis’ noticed he has over the past few weeks. “What did you say?”

Louis runs a hand through his hair. “Told him to fuck off. Never call me again.”

“Why?” Niall asks.

Now, Louis turns his head, looking at him, “What do you mean, why.”

“I thought you wanted to be with him,” Niall clarifies.

If it wasn’t two in the morning and Louis wasn’t very sleep deprived he’d guess Niall sounds almost hopeful, sitting there; eyes wide. 

“That was before I realized he’s a giant arsehole,” Louis says. “Took me a while to figure it out, but I finally managed to put the pieces together.”

“Good, at least,” Niall says. “That you, you know. Realized.”

When Louis looks up, Niall’s already looking at him. And it’s then, does everything somehow seem to fall into place. 

He reaches out, slowly, cautiously — making sure he doesn’t overstep, or has been misreading this entire fucking time. But it feels right, when his fingers brush against Niall’s hand. 

Niall’s hand turns, palm up, and Louis places his own on top. It’s warm, and soft, exactly how Louis thought it would be. Their fingers intertwine slowly, as if learning one another in this quiet moment.

Louis swallows, hard. “So.”

“So,” Niall repeats.

“This is nice,” Louis comments.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Niall laughs, and Louis nods in agreement. “Just kiss me, then.”

There’s only the light from the street lamp above them, but it’s enough for Louis to make out Niall’s face, their foreheads pressing together. 

They move slowly, knowing that they’ve got time — always had time, feels like. It’s a few, teasing moments until Niall’s lips finally brush his, and it’s like everything finally, _finally_ , falls into place.

Niall’s lips are warm are soft, exactly how Louis thought they would be. Moving gently, but still with purpose, tasting like mint and tea. His usual, honey lemon.

A hand comes to rest on Louis’ cheek, pulling him in closer. He laughs against Niall’s lips, muffled, “Not going anywhere, Horan. Think I made that pretty obvious.”

“Shut up,” Niall says, but he’s smiling.

Louis’ head feels foggy, like all he can really focus on is Niall. They stay there for a little while. Though Louis has no idea how long it actually is, all he cares about is the way Niall lets out this breathy sound when Louis runs his tongue along his lower lip, like a question.

“What if,” Niall asks. Louis whines when he pulls away, gently gripping at the fabric of Niall’s jumper, “we take this somewhere else.”

Their noses brush again, before Louis replies, “Does somewhere else mean I get to kiss you more. Because if not, I refuse.”

Niall laughs, breath warm against Louis’ cheek. “Could do more than that, if you’d like.”

Louis’ eyebrows raise, both his hands in Niall’s. “Alright, you have my attention.”

The walk back to Niall’s is only fifteen minutes, but to Louis it feels like some sort of eternity. Niall doesn’t let go of his hand, holding onto it the entire way, and Louis has no problems with that. 

Once they reach his flat, Louis waits for him to unlock the door. It’s dark, and takes a fair bit of effort for them to make it back to Niall’s room without making any kind of noise that could potentially wake Harry.

Niall turns on a lamp in the far corner of his room, once Louis is inside. He looks around a few moments, taking it all in. 

There’s posters on the wall, for various sports teams. He smiles at the one for Derby, not saying anything. Pictures of his family, him and his brother, mother, and his dad. Louis looks over them, a few where Niall’s younger — the most recent one’s recognizable by his blonde hair, straight teeth from his braces he’d hated, telling Louis about them one time during their shift.

One of his nephew, Theo. Niall’s holding him at what looks to be a birthday party, a ridiculous hat on Niall’s head, grinning up at the camera. 

Some others of Harry, and Ed, with their usual ridiculous poses and faces, guitars in their laps and empty beer cans surrounding them. 

_You’re an idiot. Put your bike away! All the love, H_ a note from Harry, pinned to the wall. Louis has to bite his lip not to laugh at that one. It’s not all of Niall’s life, not even close; but it’s enough, for now. 

Mostly, though, there’s sheet music everywhere. A few more guitars up against the wall, Louis’ fingers brushing over some papers silently. 

He turns, finally, seeing Niall sitting on the edge of his bed. “Hi,” he says, smiling over at Louis.

“Hi,” Louis says back, taking a step toward him.

Stepping between Niall’s legs, Louis kisses him again. Puts both hands on Niall’s cheeks, carefully, tilting his head up so their lips brush.

 

Niall leans back, carefully, shoes off and left at the end of the bed as Louis follows him. It takes a few moments, until they’re at the head of Niall’s bed, Louis’ face pressed against Niall’s chest comfortably.

“How long have you wanted to do that,” Louis asks, feeling Niall’s fingers run along his arm.

There’s a pause, as Niall hums, “Since the first time I saw you, I think.”

Louis blinks at him. “At the diner?”

Niall nods, smiling. “You were ranting about traffic, or something. Then about your computer charger being broken, and I just. I don’t know. Haven’t been able to shake that feeling since.”

“And you never thought to maybe mention this?” Louis asks.

It’s starting to rain, the sound of water hitting the window muffled from the warmth of Niall’s bed. “Didn’t know if it would make it weird, or not. You seemed pretty hung up on Adam for a while, there.”

“Fuck Adam,” Louis says. Niall laughs where his lips are pressed into Louis’ hair. “I don’t want Adam.”

Niall swallows, looking nervous. “Who do you want, then.”

It’s a way out. In case Louis now saw them for what they were, right now, in Niall’s room. No longer friends, but something more. Something Louis has wanted for so long now, it’s only starting to hit him now, how badly he wanted it. 

“Think I’ve made it pretty obvious,” Louis starts. He runs the pads of his fingers along Niall’s cheek, “It’s you that I’m rather fond of, Horan.”

When Niall kisses him again, Louis can’t hear the rain outside. Can’t hear anything except the way his heart pounds in his chest, real and insistent and reminding him that he’s alive, that his fingers can feel the soft skin of Niall’s cheek, that he can kiss him, right here.

It’s not until they’ve been kissing for a long while, when Louis’ upper lip is raw from Niall’s early morning stubble, does he feel Niall’s dick through his pants, half hard. 

Louis tugs on the hem of Niall’s shirt, like a silent question. Niall breaks away from him, cheeks flushed as he clears his throat, “I, um, sorry —”

“Are you really apologize for your hard on right now,” Louis asks, motioning to Niall to put his arms above his head. He does, and his jumper comes off first, then his shirt. 

“Maybe,” Niall says, when Louis does the same with his shirt. 

“I don’t know if you can tell but I’ve got the same problem…” Louis trails off, unable to finish because Niall kisses him again. Most likely, this time, to shut him up. Louis doesn’t argue Niall on that.

By the time they get to their pants, Louis is so hard he’s sure he’s going to see stars very soon if Niall doesn’t get a hand on him, quite literally.

Which is exactly what Niall does. Is good at reading people, apparently, Louis thinks as he tosses his pants over the side of the bed.

“Can I —” Niall starts, and Louis nods.

“God, Ni, yeah,” he breathes out. “ _Please_.”

Niall gets a hand around Louis, stroking him once, precome smearing all over his hand; making it easier to get a rhythm worked up. He thumbs at the tip of Louis’ cock, teasing, enough that Louis has to press his face against Niall’s neck to keep himself quiet.

It’s not long until Louis comes, all over Niall’s hand, though the other boy doesn’t seem to mind. Louis tries to get himself to breathe evenly, curled up at Niall’s side as he feels the press of lips to his forehead.

He feels safe, and warm. Untouched by anything else, except the gentle strokes of Niall’s hand at Louis’ hip.

“Wait,” Louis instructs gently, kissing the side of Niall’s neck, then his shoulder.

Niall pauses, watching Louis as he kisses down his stomach, pausing at his hip. He’s still hard, dick against his stomach as Louis puts a hand on him.

“Louis —” Niall starts, sounding just about wrecked already.

So, Louis puts his lips around the end of Niall’s cock, teasing him. Sucks a bit, just to see the way Niall’s back arches in response. Or how he sucks in a sharp breath, feeling Louis’ tongue poke into the slit.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Niall breathes out, eyes closed and head tilted back.

It’s been a while, so Louis needs to work himself up to this. Opening his mouth more and more, with each try of getting Niall almost fully in his mouth. But Niall’s patient, not even seeming to notice it takes Louis a bit more time to work up to it. If anything, he’s too blissed out too notice right now.

Louis stretches his lips, hands braced on Niall’s thighs to try and steady himself. Niall’s got a hand in Louis’ hair, tugging occasionally. 

He comes a little while later, hitting the back of Louis’ throat before he pulls off. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, leaning forward to press a kiss to Niall’s chin, lips lingering up along his jawline.

“You’re fucking amazing,” Niall tells him, breathless.

“Glad you know the truth,” Louis teases, kissing Niall’s lips briefly before getting up.

He returns with a wet flannel from the bathroom, taking his time cleaning the two of them off best he can.

“Hope you know what this means, now,” Louis says after a few moments, just before him and Niall have drifted off.

“What,” Niall asks, lips brushing Louis’ temple as he speaks; already half asleep, sounds like. 

“You’re stuck with me.”

There’s a small pause, and Louis thinks he can maybe hear footsteps down the hall. Harry, getting ready for work.

“Wouldn’t want to be stuck with anyone else, though,” Niall tells him.

And, with a final kiss, Louis knows he means it. 

“Might need my jumper back, though,” Louis jokes.

“Arsehole,” Niall mumbles, hand curling around Louis’ hip. “Go to sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> on the internet with a blog over [here](http://loueh.tumblr.com/). come stop by and say hi


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